and her drama-queen act.”
“But if she’s your problem, she’s mine, too. I thought we were in this together. Until tonight, I thought you trusted me . . .”
Quinn studied me for a long, silent moment. Seeing the pain on my face, he finally seemed to get it. “I’m sorry, Clare. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. I thought what I was doing was shielding you.”
“No, Mike, what you were doing was shutting me out. It’s your knee-jerk solution to crisis. You shut down emotionally, throw up a firewall—”
“I’m a cop,” he said quietly. “That’s what we do. We don’t . . .” He shook his head.
“You don’t let it all hang out. Yeah, I get that. It’s your conditioning, what’s required to survive the job. But if you want our relationship to survive—”
“I do. Please don’t doubt it.”
“Then you have to let me be a part of your life, share what comes at you—the good parts and the embarrassing parts and the toxic parts, too. It’s all or nothing.”
“All, Clare,” he said without taking a breath. “I want you in my life. Don’t you understand? Without you, I don’t have one.”
“That’s very sweet, but you do, Mike. You have your work—you’re absolutely devoted to it—and you have your kids. Molly loves you; Jeremy looks up to you so much. You have your mother who gave you that cherry cordial recipe—”
“You need to meet her.”
“I’d like to. I mean, the cat’s out of the bag now, right? I just met your cousin the fire captain, the other Mike Quinn.”
Mike scowled at that. “Let’s discuss him another time.”
“Okay, as long as you understand what I’m asking.”
“I do, Clare. Please, can we get beyond this now?” He paused, exhaled, ran a hand through his hair. “Have you eaten?”
“No. I’m starving, but I don’t want to stay here tonight.”
Mike’s face fell. “Clare, please . . .”
“Just drive me home, okay? I need to process all this.” I headed for the front door. “I need some time, Mike. Give it to me. Please.”
Quinn didn’t say a word, just worked his jaw, rubbed the back of his neck, and nodded. Then together we walked out the door.
THIRTY
AS we climbed into Quinn’s car, I noticed him give a quick wave to someone across the street. A short, loud whoop replied, and I realized Sergeant Franco had stuck around, waiting for a signal from Mike to depart. Now his blue sedan sped away, heading uptown.
“He’s going to the Dickie interrogation, isn’t he?” I said.
Quinn nodded. “They probably have him in custody by now.”
“I wish I could be there, too.”
Quinn started the car. “I doubt very much a man like that’s going to confess to anything, Clare. He’s got a lot of money. He’ll lawyer up.”
I slumped back in the seat, and we both fell into an unhappy silence for the rest of the ten-minute drive. When we pulled up to the Blend, the lights were still burning. Esther and Vicki—a barista team once more—were just getting ready to close up shop. (As it turned out, Vicki Glockner wanted to make some extra cash over the holidays, and I badly needed another trained barista. So we’d agreed to give our working relationship one more try.)
Boris Bokunin was inside, too, waiting for his Best girl to finish her shift.
As Mike pulled to a stop by the curb, I automatically reached for a handbag that wasn’t there. That’s when I remembered—
“My keys!”
“You don’t have them?” Quinn said. “Oh, that’s right. Your bag’s in that locker. Should we drive to the Public Library?”
“No . . .” My bag wouldn’t help me. I’d given Matt my key to the duplex. “I was going to pick up the spare at your place, but then I found Leila, and . . .”
Quinn reached out and put his hand on my leg. “Come back to my place, sweetheart. Just come back.”
“You have a key to my duplex, don’t you? I gave you one.” Quinn stiffened. “Yes.”
“Can I have it back, please?”
Quinn didn’t answer right away. For a long, silent moment, he just held my eyes. Then he rigidly reached into his pocket and brought out his ring of keys. With a heavy silence, he worked my key off his circle and held it out.
“Thanks.”
As I took it, he leaned toward me. “Clare—”
“Good night!” I climbed out, shut the door, didn’t look back. I could hear his car continuing to idle as I walked quickly through the Blend’s front entrance.
Jingle-jingle . .